Posting about ND, I feel it’s time to relay the story about the day I was shot at point blank range because of an “accident.” This story is completely and totally true, and I hope someone comes across it one day and takes it as the serious lesson I’ve taken it for.

18 years ago I was in high school - it was a summer, I think I was just about to enter my sophomore year (can’t recall precisely - it’s not terribly important). At this point, the only experience I’ve ever had with firearms was seeing what they did to birds and/or squirrels in my backyard. My Grandfather had a quite-powerful pellet gun, my Dad has a .22 pistol and a pair of shotguns. Most of my experience was with my older brothers trying to plink bunny rabbits who would hang out in the woods with the pellet gun. We were bored, all right?

I was working at a grocery store - just basic “clean up in aisle 5″ type stuff. Had plenty of buddies there, and we would get together all of the time and hang out at someone’s house. No troublemakers, my friends have always been of the “good crowd” variety.

My buddy Jason and I decided to hang out at Paul’s house for a day. Now, Paul was a senior at a different high school than I went to. I knew him pretty well, real funny guy, very friendly and happy-go-lucky.

We were listening to some music in Paul’s room, just hanging out and talking about whatever amongst the three of us. I was standing up in the middle of the room. Paul turned around, opened a sliding door to his closet and said, “Hey, I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” says I. I figured it was nothing earth-shattering. Paul was a musician, and I assumed he got a new guitar or some such thing. So he reached into the closet, grasped something with his hand, and turned around quickly with his arm outstretched toward me.

There are moments in life when you have only a second to react to something. You may see it in front of you. You won’t believe what it is you’re seeing, but your body instinctively has to do something.

When Paul turned around, his outstretched arm was pointing a large handgun at my face. My mind took one half-second too long to react, and I flinched slightly to the side just as there was this loud *POP*.

I remember Paul’s expression being one of absolute horror. What had just happened? My mind swirled for a moment, I was completely numb. I reached my hand up to my neck where I felt this peculiar warm sting. Something was wet. I touched it. I looked at my hand …

… red …

… dripping everywhere …

Paul and Jason were screaming, “OH MY GOD!”

I was beginning to black out. Staggering. My neck hurt. I mean hurt like hell. Just off center, and a little low - just above my collarbone. I looked up at the ceiling in his room, he had a white ceiling fan that was spinning slowly. Flecks and droplets of red were everywhere. All over his ceiling. All over the floor. My hand … my face … my shirt. Seeing the fan spin was sickening. There was a definite splatter pattern as it was moving and you could see in the ceiling above it where the fan-blades blocked the red from hitting the ceiling. I was about to throw up.

I thought I was dead. I knew I was.

… but I wasn’t.

There was more screaming going on and after a blink I paid attention to what Paul was saying, but I didn’t quite hear it. With all of this chaos I made out the words, “I didn’t know it was loaded …” Jason rushed me to the bathroom across the hall and started splashing water on my neck. What was that on my neck? It wasn’t a hole. It was sore. It was red and bleeding, and after he threw some water at it I finally understood what Paul was screaming.

“It’s a PAINTBALL - It’s not a real gun! I didn’t know it was loaded!”

Ever have the life scared out of you … ever thought you were dead … from a joke?

To this day when I look in the mirror after a shower, I’m reminded of that time. I have a quarter-sized scar on my neck from being hit with a paintball gun at point-blank range.

That event is so deep in my memory because I truly thought I was shot - it was a real gun, and I was dead. If it had been a blue paintball, maybe it would be different. As it stands I was in shock for quite some time, and eventually became level headed enough that I left Paul’s house, and we never spoke since.

I’m fortunate that it wasn’t a real pistol, and it wasn’t a .22 round that would’ve cut right through a main artery. Regardless, I’ve been on the receiving end with about as real a simulation as you can possibly imagine.

So remember … It’s always loaded. Period.